SugarFree
by himitsutsubasa
Summary: Nick finds an empty mint tin in his car. Inside the box is a sequence of notes that catches his interest. Nick is a cop and a Grimm. Who says that he is good at either? T for one word.
1. Peppermint

_Nick is a cop. If anyone asks, he is a damn good cop._

_Nick is a Grimm. If anyone asks, he is not a very good Grimm._

* * *

Nick looked over the case. It was a relatively simple one and, as of yet, there were no wesen involved. Though the way all his cases were going, he should put Monroe and Rosalee on speed dial. Nick flipped through the victim's contacts list. They were already contacted but wouldn't be in until the next morning. The rest was just asking whether anyone recognized the man in the dark jacket. After that, it was open and close. He reached into his pocket and felt nothing.

That was not supposed to happen.

He eventually got his car keys back. The officers had passed it along always, three steps ahead, until Nick threatened (strike that and say "insinuated") that the coffee machine would have an "accident". Then everyone was ready to cough up the information. He felt bad about blackmailing them but what other way was there?

Wu looked sheepishly at him. "Sorry, Nick, it's all part of the fun. You weren't really going to get the machine, right?"

Nick chuckled. "No, I can't live without coffee."

"And neither can I." Hank appeared with another file. "The vic. had a record. Not here. Somewhere around New Orleans." Whoever said the detectives had it nice was mistaken. The chairs were horrible.

They sat in their not-so-comfy chairs. Hank opened the file to reveal one assault, a bar fight during Mardi Gras. Nick sighed and sunk into his "unsinkable into" chair. That was a waste of time and now the DA was going to give them hell for letting information the defense could use into free range of the investigation. But, it could be worse. The DA could be angry that they didn't take it into account and faced the fire in court. Either way they were going to be burned.

Hank must have noticed, because he smiled that grin that said "you need to take a night off". And when he said "off" it was in a fluorescent pink plastered in strobe lights and pumped out Lady Gaga's Just Dance. Did he mention it glowed in the dark? Yes, it glowed in the dark.

"Take the night off." Nick didn't argue. The family was coming in tomorrow. Then they would ID the guy and everything would be very nice and done.

Getting into the car, Nick realized exactly how messy the wagon was getting. There were papers scattered about. Some were on wesen and more than a little incriminating. He started to organize them. wesen notes into the glove compartment and disposable (read "not a lot of information in them") case notes were ordered into a pile by case in the back seat. Looking at it, his priorities were screwed up. Nick stuffed the notes into a paper bag and wrote a note in his note book to bring them into evidence. The new guy would have so much fun shredding and recycling them.

Among the many sheaves was a box. It was a circular, plastic box with two openings. One said "to share" and the other was "not to share". It advertised "Wintergreen" and "Sugar-Free" in sparkly letters. Nick was momentarily stunned.

Not that mints were spectacularly stunning. He was just a little surprised. Nick did not eat mints. He was one of those people born with eternally fresh breath. He smelled the same after getting up in the morning or eating a basket of onions with a side of sardines to his usual after toothpaste-mouthwash routine. He never really thought much of it. But, then Aunt Marie had good breath too. Maybe it was a Grimm thing. Hilarious, right? After fighting for all that was good and right, Charles Darwin gave them nice breath. He would curse the man as he died smelling minty fresh.

But back on topic, he stared at the box, which was not his, and wondered who it belonged to. Juliet was a chewing gum person. Hank liked using a spray freshener. Nick shook the box. There was no rattle of sugar-free, minty goodness. He opened the box and found it stuffed with paper. He gingerly pulled out a note. The paper was yellow and folded into fourths. He unfolded it to reveal neat, slanted writing.

_Get milk._

Standard. Couldn't guess who with that.

_Be careful._

Interesting, but ambiguous. Nick realized exactly what this situation looked like. He was in a car staring at folded post-its like some detectives stared at evidence. People would start thinking he was crazier than they already did.

Nick pulled out of the parking lot. At least, no one messed with his brakes or killed the battery. He pulled into the drive way of his happy home and checked for watchers. The eisbeibers had laid-off the spying but there were others. No one on the street looked like a creeper. More like no one on the street, in the bushes, or up a tree looked like a creeper.

He was almost out of his car when his phone went off. Juliette. He sat back down in the seat and hit the "call" button.

"Hey." She sounded well, but not entirely cheerful.

"What's up?" He asked.

Her voice was apologetic over the line. "Well, I can't get home early tonight. An old lady wants me to check up on her cat."

"I'll see you later, sweetie."

"Bye, honey." They fell into the couple nickname calling. A minute later, Nick hung up. The idea to take his Grimm notes struck his as he got out of his car. The evening air was temperate. Nick tried to remember where he stowed his light jackets last fall, before the Grimm life took over; it felt like a life time ago. He was glad the house was cool. He walked past the AC on his way to the kitchen and checked the temperature. It was the mid-seventies. Not bad.

* * *

Lasagna was always better the second day. He didn't care what Monroe and Juliette had to say about it. Nick plopped on the couch and turned on the TV. There was depressingly nothing on. Nothing on meant nothing interesting on. He reached into his pockets and noticed something.

His phone was gone.

* * *

Wall of Disclaimers is up.

This was a birthday gift to me from a friend. I received an empty mint box because I couldn't think of anything else to ask for that was immediately on their person. Sure, I got a few weird looks, but I explained it afterwards.

Anyhow, I hope you like it. If you do, please tell me.


	2. Spearmint

Nick puttered around the house checking the kitchen and the hall. He even checked the ridiculous pineapple tray they used for keys. Juliette saw it at Color-Me-Mine and fell in love.

"The car." he almost smacked himself for not realizing. Sure enough, it was in his car. He glanced at the passenger's seat and grabbed the box. Why watch when you could do?

He dropped the phone and box on the coffee table and was trotting up the stairs. He knew that there was a box of Christmas cards somewhere. He could do a hand writing analysis, just like he was taught at the academy. On impulse, he grabbed the text book while he was at it.

Nick started pulling out the notes.

_Today was just strange. 10-28-11_

_Argh._

_WHY?_

_I hate him._

_Not really hate._

_I guess we're friends._

_I think I like him._.

_We're getting along. _

"This person is falling in love," Nick thought to himself. Then, it struck him. The writer was certainly female and not Juliette.

Rosalee smelled like herbs all the time, mint might be one of them. Rosalee had to be careful. And who could it be but him that she hated? And it was no secret that she liked Monroe and Monroe reciprocated it.

_I think I love him._

His phone interrupted that train of thought. Monroe.

"Hey, Nick, you left your jacket at my place. Do you mind if I drop it off?" He paused before explaining. "A couple wesen have been sniffing around and I'm kind of worried about how they would take it if they found it."

"Really? I'm at home and I don't' mind. Oh yeah, Rosalee left a box in my car. Do you mind giving it to her?" There was the short pause from Nick as the engine started on the other end. "Do you want me to take care of the situation?"

Monroe was silent and the engine idled. "Not really, I'm already on the road. I can take care of myself Nick." Monroe hung up and Nick was sure he had at least ten minutes.

He shoved-down the remainder of the lasagna and started repacking the notes and cards. He put the last on in when he had an idea. He tore out a page form his not book and scribbled on it. Then, he stuffed it into the box. The Christmas cards went under the couch with the useless textbook.

The door bell rang. "Nick?" Monroe was at the door already. Nick opened it and was almost tackled by the excited blutbad.

"This is the inside of your house?" Monroe surveyed the hall. Nick realized despite how many times he had eaten dinner, slept on the couch, and imposed upon early mornings at Monroe's, Monroe had never been in his house.

"Yeah, come in." He ended up giving Monroe a grand tour. Monroe was surprised by the change and shuffled nervously for the first few minutes. The house was "very Nick", he said.

"No way." Monroe stared at a clock. "Can it touch it?" Nick nodded. It was a grandfather clock in a glass case. Nick had gotten it from Aunt Marie but he never found out how to work it. Who better to ask than a clock doctor?

"You recognize it?"

"Do I?" Monroe started rattling off skeins of information only a clock enthusiast would understand. Nick listened politely watch Monroe as he talked.

The Enthusiastic Monroe was very different form the normal Monroe. The normal Monroe seemed like he was on a leash. That he knew that if he made a mistake a shock collar would zap him or something. But the animated Monroe was happy. His hands moved with his speech. His eyes glittered with intelligence and contentment. His mouth ran a mile a minute and he was never silent, even when he bothered to breathe. Nick realized the last time he saw Monroe like this, at the dragon's lair, he had been to tense to observe anything. The time before that, he was investigating a brutal murder. The time before that he was completely put off by all the Christmas decorations. Now seeing Monroe in his element, he couldn't help but feel the contagious euphoria.

"Sorry, I'm rambling. You have no idea what I just said." Nick shook his head.

"Take it with you and fix it up." Monroe jolted out of his blush.

"No way, really?"

"Yeah. Send me the bill." Monroe shook his head.

"Not possible. I'd bill you double for all the stuff you've put me through. This one's on the house." Nick nodded and clapped Monroe on the shoulder.

"Thanks." Monroe grinned like an idiot as he carefully wrapped the clock in newspaper. Nick remembered why Monroe was over in the first place.

"Here you go." He held out the box. Monroe looked at the box for a beat. "Don't ask why but it's important." Monroe pocketed it slowly.

"See you next week?" Nick nodded.

Watching Monroe's back as he walked away, Nick smiled. Rosalee was a lucky girl.

* * *

Wall of Disclaimers is up.

I had to insert my pineapple candy (as it was originally meant for)/ key (as it is now converted thanks to my mother) dish. I'm just glad no one ever looks on the mantle.

This was a birthday gift to me from a friend. I received an empty mint box because I couldn't think of anything else to ask for that was immediately on their person. Sure, I got a few weird looks, but I explained it afterwards.

Anyhow, I hope you like it. If you do, please tell me.


	3. Coolmint

In his car, Monroe breathed a sigh of relief. He fingered the box of mints. It was empty of course. He knew that very well.

What mattered was the information inside.

All the little things that he felt were in there.

He recalled what his counselor had said when he hopped onto the weider path a decade ago. "This will be how you control you feelings. Write it down and close the book. You just closed off your temptations and urges. Remember that you have control." If only it was so easy.  
Monroe cracked open the top. Unlike the others who wrote in diaries or fantasy blogs, he kept all his feelings inside a little box. One he kept on his person at all times.

Nick. He could smell the scent on a few of the papers. How could he not have expected Nick to investigate? The man was a detective after all.  
A small part of him was glad that Nick thought the box was Rosalee's. An even larger part was disappointed. Disappointed that Nick didn't recognize his handwriting. Not that he would since they always met face to face or texted, but it would be nice to know the detective was smart enough to pick up on it.

Monroe glanced at the paper scattered on his dash. There was one that wasn't a sticky note.

Monroe immediately knew the hand writing. Large loops but stock straight. Open hearted but having a strong moral code. Nick.

_Take the chance._

* * *

Outside his house, Monroe stood in from of the mail box. He pulled out a trowel and started digging.

After all of five minutes he gave up and used his hands.

When the hole was finally deep enough, he dropped the mint box in. It wasn't good for the environment to bury plastic, but he was sure the counselor would have justified it with symbolic meaning or some pseudo-scientific-psychological analysis.

He opened a new box and emptied the contents in the hole. Then, he covered it with earth.

"Goodbye."

* * *

Wall of Disclaimers is up.

Can you guess the mint brand I based this off of?

Next chapter is the last one.


	4. Wintergreen

I was trapped on a boat.

* * *

Inside his house, he pulled the one note he kept in his pocket.

Monroe read it over, running his fingers over the words. On the opposite side, he wrote a note, the first for his new box. He wrote the date on it. Just to be sure.

He placed the note in a new mint box, one that wasn't sugar free. He was sure that someone would find it amusing.

The clock only chimed and he puttered off to bed, the words resting in his pocket.

_N, I love you. – M. 5-18-12_

In his pocket, the box rested. It had a few ideas to the human that used it. First of all it was a bit offended that the man had dumped its contents into a hole. There could be no sane reason for that. The second was that the person needed to get a diary. It was not for carrying note around. And the last was a memory from its predecessor.

"Take care of him. Keep his secrets. But when the time comes, give them away."

It thought the man was remarkably different form the girls and boys and men and women that walked past it in the super market. But this one had no need for its contents. Just its integrity to hold onto secrets.

It was happy for that.

* * *

In his bed, Monroe lay in his bed.

He pondered his relationships. How many would this hurt? Who would still speak to him afterwards? Could he take the risk? No, not now. Maybe not ever.

He would continue to help Nick. He would continue to ride along. He would continue to save the Grimm's sorry butt. He would continue to be the friend/co-conspirator/partner/confidante.

And if a box fell out of his pocket that was perfectly alright.

_Nick is a cop. If anyone asks, he is not a very good cop. _

_Nick is a Grimm. If anyone asks, he is a damn good Grimm._

Monroe seconded that.

* * *

If you would like to know the brand, it is the Ice Breaker brand mints.

Again. I was trapped on a boat.

And attacked by a tiger.


End file.
